


how to say sad

by fromthefire



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, David Acting as Max's Parental Figure | Dadvid (Camp Camp), Other, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, dadvid, max is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthefire/pseuds/fromthefire
Summary: "Melancholic?" Neil tried. Max furrowed his brows. He repeated it. He felt it too.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	how to say sad

Max's arms were wrapped around the worn bear with the desperate grip of a bandage to a wound. He was sad. It could've also a drip of anger that marinated too long, maybe even a bit bored but the weight of sadness felt heavier than anything else. It always did when this happened; when everything was too much and too foggy. 

He figured theres a more specific word that would make these bundle of feelings make sense but he resorted to what he always did with these type of problems: Ignore and repress because it'll come true of you think about it too much. 'Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.' Max tells himself. As always, Max failed. He couldn't help but wonder about what Neil would say. He'd know. Hell, Nikki could come up with something. It'd roll off his tongue in a matter-of-fact way because it happened with every word, every question, every thing. That's how Neil was, Max snuggled his chin into Mr. Honeynuts, brilliant and considerate and- and Max shook the thought from his head. 'Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.' Nikki, on the other hand, would go through every adjective she could recall, raising some questions she'd never answer. Eventually, she'd spill nouns, verbs, because what the fuck was an adjective anyway? The echo of a child's scream (Definitely Nerris) caused Mr. Honeynuts to fall from Max's arms. The boy scrambled to pick him up and found refuge in the corner of the tent. He settled in Neil's corner and even in his sleeping bag. Neil wouldn't mind or at least he usually didn't during the night. "Sh, campers! We don't want to wake Max and cause his head to hurt even more!" He could hear David whisper-yell over the rambling campers. Nurf's voice was loud over the crowd. Max could only hear a few word but the point got across to Max. "Yeah, well, we can't really accuse him of faking or do anything about it so..." Gwen responded, voice fading as he figured they began the hike. David chirped something cheerily behind them. Max's stomach churned and he started to actually feel ill. He thought he was spacing his 'sick days' apart far enough to not cause suspicion. Yeah, he had a few days a week where he felt like this and even more if he couldn't repress it well enough. Apparently the smiles and forced laughs weren't fake enough. Gwen's eyebrows would always knit together in worry when Max lied as best as he could about his stomach or head or arm or nose or anything. She would try to prod further or even encourage him to talk about it. Max was skilled at avoiding those questions though. David was always silent. David just stood there. He stood in place. He would just widen his eyes and then Max would repeat himself. "David... Did you, did you hear me?" He would trail off. "My head, uh, kinda hurts," David would let out a breath. "Oh." Then another. "Okay. T-That's, um, that's alright. Just stay in your tent, then. If you'd like, you could stay in the counselors office. Finding dirt on Gwen and I should cheer you up!" Max watch David smile. He watched how it didn't meet his eyes. He felt David's eyes on his back after he would decline and head to his and Neil's tent. Then, he'd spend the day hating himself for lying and hating himself for feeling that way in the first place. After a good amount of self loathing, Max would surrender to his thoughts again. The daily hike was a good opportunity to think about David. He would wonder about what would happen if he told David that he thinks often about his body six feet deep into the Earth or that he likes the way his skin scars over. In an ideal word, David would ignore him. He would just listen to Max. Max would shake and cry and then shake some more and David would tell him that it was okay. David's voice wouldn't be sharp or demanding. His hands would be gentle, comforting. A nice feeling Max would force himself not to get use to. Max would return the feeling for the first time in his life while starting to calm down in someone else's presence, for the first time, too. Here, back in reality, his life would turn into Hell. A deeper layer of Hell to be specific. David would worry about him even more and would drag Gwen into caring too. His parents would get would even worse. They would resort to their old habits and if they did that, Max wouldn't be able to hide the marks. From them or himself. Max tried to think about the benefits about spilling his guts. Wracking his brain for any good thoughts proved too difficult. Once again, he succumbed to his draining thoughts.


End file.
